“I’m just wrapping up a meeting and I’ll be on my way,” he continued.
“Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. I’m just checking in,” I replied. “I’m leaving for that book signing with Maria Shriver, remember? Then I’m heading to the Auction/Fundraiser meeting. Probably be about 10 or 11 pm before I’m home.”
“I’m in complete control. I’ve got the girls. Go have fun,” my husband encouraged me.
I laughed. Sometimes, he truly knows how to put a smile on my face. That phrase is one of his pre-emptive strikes on any warning I may have had prepared to compel him to run, not walk, to the nearest elevator in his building and get himself home. I’m pretty sure he knows that when he gets that phone call and I need to be somewhere and he needs to pick up our girls from school, he’d better be “wrapping up” whatever he’s doing immediately or already in his vehicle hurrying home.
Luckily, that’s all I ever really worry about when I have an appointment in the evening. I don’t lay out what they should have for dinner. I might make some suggestions so he doesn’t have to suffer through the agony of the mealtime decision making but other than that, he is “in complete control.” [smile]
His thing is putting the girls to bed. Always has been. Ever since the girls were infants and I couldn’t carry them upstairs myself because of my C-section, he has been in charge of the bedtime routine. He updated me whenever he changed the nightly ritual – added tooth brushing, added flossing, made them sit on the potty, whatever.
So, when I do go out at night sans family (usually for a meeting of my non-profit organization or a moms’ night out), my biggest concern is getting him home on time. And that is really very little compared to many families, I think.